The Fog Sure Is Dense...

Tikvah, of course, was wide awake by the time we got to our hotel room at 3:30am, so I was worried she wouldn't sleep anymore after our crazy long day. She did wake up several times, but mercifully she slept pretty well till about 7am. As light filled our room on the 9th floor, I pulled back the filmy curtains to take a look at this country. The sun was big and red, but I could look straight at it without flinching. I could see a few streets away, but most of the vast city was hidden in what looked like a dense fog. The cold winter weather was evident from the barren trees. But still, John and I were not quite prepared for the arctic blast that greeted us when we ventured toward the hotel doors. We quickly retreated and decided that we needed some "down time" rather than freezing to death to try some sightseeing.

Having come straight from PNG the morning before, we had left our extra layers in our suitcases - which of course were now lost somewhere in the mysterious hinterlands of some airport. Fortunately, we soon got word that our things would be arriving in Beijing around 2pm that afternoon. So we did finally venture out of our cozy hotel room and shivered our way to the airport to collect our things.

Now, when we had left PNG, I had expected to more or less leave behind the attention that Tikvah gathered wherever we went. Of course a little white girl gets a lot of attention in a place like PNG, from women and men alike. And as a mother I sometimes also got attention if someone observed that I wasn't doing my job appropriately. Especially noticeable were the times I didn't protect her sufficiently from sun or rain. Any PNG mother would feel it her duty to tell me Tikvah needed a hat, or would shake her head and click her tongue if Tikvah was getting even drizzled on (which happened fairly often in tropical PNG). But going to a country where our skin color wasn't so distinct, I expected the attention would be non-existent. I had a lot to learn!

Tikvah is quite the social creature, and she wasted no time in smiling and waving at everyone she saw. Before we had left the hotel she had charmed 3 young ladies in their hotel uniforms, an older gentleman in a business suit (who shamelessly hopped around in an effort to make her smile), and a whole table of young Chinese people in the hotel restaurant. And yes, that was to be indicative of the attention she would get constantly through our few days in China. And I wasn't off the hook either. It seemed that many older Chinese women were very concerned with Tikvah's health, and were quick to inform us that we needed to pull her pant legs down better or put a coat on her or socks to make sure she stayed warm. Never mind that they couldn't speak a word of my language nor I a word of theirs - they got their point across quite effectively, and I tried to respond graciously.

At long last, just as the airport worker had promised, our three suitcases came sliding down to the baggage carousel. We gratefully snatched them up and quickly added a few more layers of clothing before heading out to find a bus. About three hours later our bus arrived in Tianjin, where we were to meet my college friend who I hadn't seen in 3 or 4 years. She was waiting near the road with her back turned to us as we got off one of the many busses coming in, but a tall white girl with long dark hair is a pretty distinct figure on a busy sidewalk in China and I caught sight of her quickly. A short taxi ride later we were up in her apartment building (which has an elevator, she exclaimed!) and settling in to her cozy little home.

We tossed our baggage on the floor of the spare bedroom and plopped down on the bed. But the bed wasn't as amenable to plopping as I had expected. In fact, to my pampered American body, the mattress felt more like a box-spring, it was so stiff beneath my tired muscles. Apparently, I thought, soft mattresses are not the ideal here!

Here in Tianjin, the 'fog' that had pervaded Beijing sat heavy in the sky and blocked the scenery. While we had been in the Beijing hotel we had the TV tuned into the one English channel and were watching a news show of some kind. A man was asking people on the street what they felt was the most important issue in Beijing, and they kept saying 'air pollution'. I had laughed to myself, thinking that it was a funny thing for people to be concerned about. I wondered what kind of propaganda they'd been fed to believe that it could be such a big deal. But looking out the apartment in Tianjin, it became very clear that there was a very sensible reason for these concerns. That heavy 'fog' that was limiting my view to only a few city blocks? That's right - it was air pollution. I had never dreamed that such a thing could exist! It hung over the sky like a cloud cover all day and blocked the sunlight. It was heavy and oppressive, and it weighed on your mind to think that you were breathing that white muck into your lungs. Suddenly the not-so-fashionable face masks that lots of people were wearing didn't seem like such a ridiculous idea.

Adventures in Asia

This might sound a little strange coming from two people who have made their home in a country only recently introduced to the "modern world". But to tell the truth, in some ways John and I aren't the most adventurous people. Sure, going to PNG was kind of a big deal. But John had been to this side of the world with his parents before, so it wasn't exactly a strange new place for him. And as part of a missions organization we had plenty of guidance and help along the way to get us through the red tape to get to PNG in the first place. But when it comes to venturing out on our own, we've sometimes been a bit chicken. Or maybe just a bit miserly - either way, it's had the same effect. We've travelled across the world but not bothered to really see the world we're travelling through.

So this time, since we don't know if or when we'll be returning to this side of the world, we decided to actually see some of it. I have a friend in China, and John's sister and her husband live in Korea, so we decided to pay them all a visit and let them show us around a bit.

Our first impression of China? Well, let's just say their airline service wasn't extraordinary. In one long day we were to travel from Port Moresby, PNG's capital, to Brisbane, Australia, to Hong Kong, and then to Beijing, arriving shortly after 10pm. We made a hotel reservation close to the airport, and if we got through customs quick enough we'd have time to catch the free shuttle from the airport to the hotel. Well, plans are made so they can be changed, right?

7pm, Hong Kong airport - John, Tikvah and I and two other passengers from our last flight are being helped by a high-heeled, smartly dressed flight attendant. We were supposed to be on our next flight by now, but a delay in the previous flight and a short layover means we're getting bumped to an 8pm flight to Beijing. No worries, right? Just as long as Tikvah goes to sleep, we'll be good to go. At present I'm sitting cross legged on the airport lounge floor while John chases a sleep deprived and therefore very hyper Tikvah as she (literally) runs circles around him and twirls her way through the big empty spaces.

8:30pm, aboard the flight to Beijing - Tikvah does not want to settle down. In fact, she's screaming and making everyone miserable as the plane taxies the runway. I'm convinced all the people around me think I'm torturing her somehow. I'm not, but I'm about ready to if she doesn't quiet down! Nothing seems to settle her down and all I can do is hold on and hope she wears herself out, very very soon.

10pm, aboard the flight to Beijing - I'm sure it could be worse, but it is hard to imagine how. Our plane is just now leaving Hong Kong. After boarding, the nice Australian pilot informed us that they hadn't been granted permission to fly over a certain airport, so we would have a 40 minute delay. About 10 minutes later, the 40 minutes was stretched to a 1 1/2 hour delay before we could take off. John noticed that most of the Chinese travelers seemed rather ambivalent about the delay, leading him to wonder if that kind of thing happened often on the Chinese airlines. Well, all but the lady who shouted an obscenity when the pilot announced our delay - but then, she was speaking English, so she probably wasn't Chinese anyway! But at long last, the plane engines roared to life and we were up and away.

Tikvah slept fitfully during the 2 1/2 hour flight, and therefore so did I. Two or three times as we flew toward Beijing she awoke, screaming, and I would try desperately for what seemed like forever to calm her down. She would eventually give up and go back to sleep. Then I would gingerly adjust whatever appendage of mine she happened to be squashing or straining this time and then close my eyes to await her next call.

I'll spare you the exciting details of the next few hours. Suffice it to say that we landed in Beijing, didn't get our luggage, talked with the Air China dude for a while about how we would get our luggage and wrote down how much our stuff was worth if we never got our luggage (now that was comforting!), paid more than $20 for a 5 minute taxi ride because the free shuttle to the hotel quit running several hours before, and then finally, at long last, crashed into our beds at the hotel while the clock read 3:30am. Figuring in a couple of time zone changes, we calculated that it had been about 25 hours since we had woken up to leave the guest house in Port Moresby that morning (or the previous morning, technically). Talk about a ridiculously long day! So far, we thought, China has not exactly impressed us!

Village visit

In our last newsletter we mentioned that we hoped to visit the village where we lived for five weeks during our PNG orientation course. We were able to make that visit! The day before we planned to go, we were at the market in Madang, a large though rather shoddy looking town on the northern coast of PNG. We knew that PMVs (Public Motor Vehicles - privately owned vehicles used for public transportation, which can be anything from a van to a bus to a truck with a makeshift roof over the bed) went from Madang to the road near Bom, the village where we lived. We walked toward the place where the PMV parked and asked someone standing there if any PMV's went to Bom. Suddenly a man we didn't recognize jumped up in the back of the PMV and said excitedly, "John! John! Ahh, hello!" It had been two solid years since we left Bom, but obviously we hadn't been forgotten! The man promised to tell our village papa that we were planning to come the next day.

The next morning we started walking down the mountain where we were staying toward the main road into Madang. Fortunately we caught a ride down the hill, and then quickly found a PMV headed into Madang. Once in Madang we climbed on the PMV that would take us to Bom. We started out of town and drove for what seemed like forever. Just as John and I were beginning to wonder if we really were on the right PMV, it turned onto a familiar dirt road. After a bit, we saw a familiar face walking along the side of the road and hollered for the driver to stop. One man began clanking on a metal bar with a coin to signal the driver in the cab, and the vehicle stopped several yards ahead of the man. The short figure came hustling toward the PMV and quickly climbed with great excitement - it was our village papa, and sure enough the man we'd met the day before had informed him of our plans to visit.

He was of course thrilled to see his "kids", and I marveled at how short he really was. Somehow the part he played in our lives made me think I should look up to him, but no, I actually had to look down to look him in the eye! Bom (yes, our village papa has the same name as the village itself) was of course especially enamored with Tikvah. He pushed his rough and stubble-covered face right into hers, and she stared back rather calmly but with wide eyes. We didn't chat much as we rode along, due to the noise of the vehicle, but soon it stopped and we disembarked for the walk to our former village home.

We approached the river which runs directly through the road to Bom. There is no bridge, though our village papa still talked about some company's plans to make one someday upriver. It was the drier season when we had lived in Bom, and fording the river had never been an issue, so I didn't feel too concerned. But as we stepped into the river, John holding Tikvah on his shoulder and me holding the hand of a sturdy young man for support, my lack of concern quickly became a torrent of fear. The river was incredibly strong! How these men shorter than me were so adept at keeping their balance I have yet to understand. The water in the deepest part was close to my chest and I was soon grasping tightly to the young man's hand as my feet were nearly swept from under me. I wasn't too afraid for myself - I knew I could float if I got carried away. But my eyes anxiously focused on John as I hoped and prayed that his feet were steadier than mine. Thankfully, they were, and he and Tikvah stepped on the opposite shore without a worry.

Once we were through the river, the rest of the walk was much less eventful. Our village papa had decided it was his turn to carry Tikvah, so he snatched up the Ergo baby carrier I had been wearing and fastened the waist belt around himself. I helped him get Tikvah situated, and we started off. I had to laugh to myself, wondering if an Ergo carrier had ever been worn by a bush-dwelling Papua New Guinean grandpa before. Tikvah once again was a trooper, and didn't seem to mind being whisked away by this strange man. After we walked for a bit, she did give a slight whimper, which was all it took for Bom to hand her back to me. I'm sure he enjoyed his grandpa time, though!

Through the bush we wandered, following a well worn but thin trail through coconut trees, cocoa trees, and other myriad types of vegetation whose leaves grow to 'prehistoric' proportions. Finally we came into the clearing on the beach where our village was situated. We walked over to our village papa's house, greeted with shouts of excitement from his always exuberant daughter. A few things had changed - a new platform had been built, a house finished, the outdoor kitchen slightly renovated, but for the most part it was life as usual as we had known it. Even our village papa's dad, who had seemed too old and thin to be alive two years ago, was still there to greet us, though we wondered if he could see us at all through his cataracts.

And then, we sat. We talked with various people who came to see the spectacle, we explained a bit about what had transpired since we left, and of course introduced Tikvah to everyone. She was hesitant at first, but before long came to herself and waltzed around, chasing dogs and chickens, lying in the sand, and eating the bananas and cucumbers that were offered her. We took her to down to the water for a few minutes, and let her play in the waves, but they were particularly strong and one wave threatened to pry her from my hands when I wasn't paying enough attention. Tikvah was drenched in salt water, but happy as a lark! I quickly decided that we'd stick to the higher ground.

We stayed there for a few hours, and ate our honorary meal of pumpkin, potato, and some other kind of potato with a few greens all boiled in coconut milk. It isn't bad food, and John seems to like it ok, but I never could get used to the monotony of eating so much starch day after day. Our village family had hoped we would spend the night and put a mattress in "our" house for us to use. We however felt it was wise to get back across the river while we knew we still could, and didn't relish the thought of sleeping without even a mosquito net to aid us. So we soon bid farewell, and began the journey back to the road where we could again catch a PMV into town.

My only regret in leaving so soon was that we hadn't had a chance to see our village sister, Awaio. She had been maybe 12 or 13 when we were there before, and was my little companion in most endeavors. Around other children she seemed a bit bossy and forceful, but with me she was ever kind and helpful. She was a busy girl, and often told me she would do my dishes or my laundry if I would just ask. And of course she would quickly take over when my feeble attempts at fire-building were too much for her to bear. I was curious to see her again and see how she had grown over the last two years. I wondered what kind of a young woman she would be today. I didn't have a chance to find out, except that I deduced she must still be a busy, hard worker. Our papa told us that Awaio had expected we would stay the night, and so had gone out to dig peanuts that day. I felt sad, and asked our papa a few times to make sure and tell her I was sad that I didn't see her.

We retraced our steps back through the forest, back to the dreaded river, but once again we crossed without incident. After a relatively short wait at the PMV stop, we boarded another vehicle and were soon bumping our way toward town. We waved goodby to our village papa, knowing full well that we may never see him again. But no matter, we will always be his kids in his mind, and he'll be able to talk about his little grandaughter's visit for years to come whenever other stories around the night fire grow dull.

It was dark before we finally made it up the long hill to the place where we were staying. I was so exhausted that John ended up carrying Tikvah and our backpacks for the last portion of the hike. Even then I struggled a bit to keep up with his pace. The house where we were staying was nice, though not as much so as our house in Ukarumpa. But this night, it may as well have been a castle. We were very thankful to see beds and mosquito nets and to have a cool shower before going to bed. Whew! It had been a day, for sure!